


Why You Gotta Be So Rude

by TheBadIdeaBears



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: BAMF Maka Albarn, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Songfic, Soul trying to win Spirit's approval, wingman Black Star
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 05:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13920126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBadIdeaBears/pseuds/TheBadIdeaBears
Summary: All Soul wants is Spirit's blessing to propose to Maka. Why does Spirit have to be so rude?





	Why You Gotta Be So Rude

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all - for Valentine's day Holly asked me for a songfic to the song 'Rude' by Magic and this is what I wrote. I hope you all enjoy this silly little story. :)

For what feels like the billionth time this morning, Soul fiddles with the tie at his throat. He gulps, the movement making his Adam's apple bob against his collar as he gets slowly closer to the house he's looking for. When he finally stands before the front door, he can feel how clammy his hands have become but he squashes down the feeling, knocking before he can lose his nerve. It feels desperately uncool. The door soon opens to reveal Spirit Albarn, looking disgruntled and tired – probably it's too early for him, given the late nights Soul knows he spends in bars.

“Evans?” he asks, staring down at Soul, who clears his throat.

“Uh, Mr Albarn, sir... Could I please talk to you?”

Spirit looks him up and down. “If you must.”

For a long moment, Soul stands there waiting to be let in but when Spirit makes no move to let him past he realises he's going to have to have this conversation on the threshold.

“So... uh, I wanted to ask you a question,” he starts. His stomach feels weird and like it might try and escape if he opens his mouth too wide. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Me and Maka have been together for... well, a while, and I know you've always been very protective of her.”

“It's my duty as her father,” replies Spirit. His eyes took on a dark look the instant Soul mentioned Maka, and Soul would back away from the topic but she's the whole reason he's here in the first place.

“And that's why I need to ask you,” Soul says quickly. “I get that you're an old-fashioned kind of guy and I respect that so I'm asking you if I can marry Maka.”

Soul manages to hold Spirit's gaze as he asks, but the bright spark of pride in doing so is extinguished when Spirit says, “No.”

For a long moment, Soul stares at him, red eyes fixed on blue, before he frowns. “What?!”

“No,” repeats Spirit.

“But I–”

“But nothing,” says Spirit. His voice is firm and tone final as he begins to close the door. “The answer is no.”

“Wait, please!” begs Soul. Spirit pauses, eyes boring into him. “Please, I... I love Maka so much and I just want to spend the rest of my life devoted to making her happy.”

Spirit raises an eyebrow. “Tough luck my friend. No man will ever be good enough for my little girl. Get lost.”

With that, he slams the door in Soul's face, leaving him standing on the doorstep. Soul blinks, his features pulling down into a frown.

“Well that went well...”

 

When Maka gets back home that evening, Soul has changed into a hoodie and jeans and is making dinner.

“Hey,” she greets him with a little smile, slipping off her shoes and coming over to where he stands by the stove. Her slim arms encircle his waist as she kisses him on the cheek. “How was your day?”

“Not bad,” lies Soul. Of course he's not going to say anything about his conversation with her dad: quite apart from not wanting to have to explain how the encounter ended, he wants to keep the proposal something of a surprise. “Went to the gym, had a shower, played some piano. Nothing special. Yours?”

“Good,” she says as he stirs the chilli in the pot. “Got a load of thesis work done in the library.”

“Cool,” he smiles, dropping a kiss on her forehead. Her hair smells sweet and familiar – it brings a pang to his chest when he thinks of Spirit's response from this morning.

After dinner, they're curled up together on the sofa and Soul can't focus on anything. Spirit's words keep rolling around in his head, bringing a frown to his face. With this refusal, Soul isn't sure what to do. He can't leave things alone now – he already bought the ring and he's not willing to give up. Against Soul's side, Maka shifts a little and turns the page of her book; a fond smile pulls at the corners of his lips. She's so beautiful, even now with a ratty jumper on over her pyjamas and her hair pulled back from her face. He watches her, watches her lashes shift as she reads, watches her finger gently stroking the edge of the page, eager to turn it, watches her lips pout very slightly in concentration.

 _I can't let her go_ , he thinks. _She's too important and we've been through too much. I can't live without her._

Maka turns the page again.

 _We could elope_ , wonders Soul. _We could run away to... another galaxy or something... Then there'd be no one to tell us what to do._

As Spirit's response and blankly unimpressed expression swim back into the foreground of Soul's thoughts he suppresses a shudder.

_He would definitely kill me if we did that._

“Are you okay?” asks Maka, taking Soul out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” he asks, meeting her eyes. “Yeah, why?”

“You shivered,” she says. “Are you cold?”

Soul pulls her closer with a grin. “If I say yes can I steal you for warmth?”

She laughs softly, turning her head to capture his lips in a kiss. “You're silly.”

“Would you have me any other way though?” he asks.

“Not at all,” smiles Maka, touching the tip of her nose to Soul's. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” says Soul. “So so much.”

There has to be another way to win Spirit over; even if it means grovelling at the man's feet for days Soul knows he'll do it. For Maka, he'll do anything.

 

With no other clue what to do, Soul meets up with Black*Star at the gym the next day.

“Soul!” Black*Star greets him as Soul enters the changing room. “How'd it go with Spirit?”

Soul drops his bag on the bench beside Black*Star. “He told me to get lost.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, he slammed the door in my face.”

“Wow, rude!”

Soul half-laughs and pulls off his shirt. “He said there was no chance of him ever saying yes.”

“That's bullshit!” cries Black*Star. The other men in the changing room – two guys combing their hair by the mirror and an older man tying his shoes in the corner – all look around, startled by the volume of his voice. “He can't stop you proposing to her – you guys are meant to be!”

Pulling on his workout shirt, Soul grimaces. “I want his blessing.”

“Why bother?” asks Black*Star. “He said there's no way already so you might as well just propose.”

Soul changes his jeans out for his workout shorts. “I don't know.”

“How about I go over there?” suggests Black*Star, flexing his biceps. “I'll get a blessing out of him, no problem!”

Soul chuckles. “I'm going to keep that as plan B.”

“Well you can't give up!” Black*Star insists. “Just... I don't know, go see him somewhere he might be more chill maybe? Like, more relaxed?”

As they head downstairs to the gym, Soul thinks on Black*Star's suggestion. When might Spirit be more relaxed?

 

Dressed a little more casually than last time, Soul suppresses a grimace and pushes open the front door to Chupa-Cabra's to try and find Spirit. It's not a place Soul enjoys coming to: he pops by occasionally to see Blair but other than that the place holds little to no interest for him. Really, he prefers staying home with Maka over this kind of place. But for her he's trying to get on Spirit's good side and to that end he'll assail himself for today.

“Soul!” Blair calls, sauntering down and draping herself on the bar. “How are you?”

“I'm... okay,” he says, glancing around. “Is Spirit Albarn here?”

Blair cocks her head to one side. “You know there are girls here with their boobs out right?”

“Yeah,” nods Soul, “but I really need to talk to him.”

Blair giggles. “Suit yourself.” She straightens up, swishing around the bar and starting to walk away towards the private lounges, turning to look at him and beckoning with one long finger. “Come on, don't be shy!”

Soul follows her, still reluctant despite himself, eventually finding himself at a booth in the VIP lounge. It being only early evening, there aren't many people around, and Spirit is flanked by two busty ladies, both of whom are listening to him talk.

“It's just so hard sometimes,” Spirit says melodramatically, one hand fluttering over his forehead in mild agony. “I try so hard to be a good father but I wonder if I'm doing a good enough job.”

“Spirit!” says one of the girls, clutching one hand over her ample bosom. “I'm sure you're a great father!”

“Mr Albarn sir!” Blair says loudly, cutting through the conversation with a cheery grin. “I have a young man here to see you!”

Spirit looks up from his monologue, something of a smile on his face until he sees Soul. The instant their eyes meet, his blue eyes blaze suddenly and before Soul knows it, Spirit is on his feet and grabs Soul by one ear.

“What are you here for?” he asks, half-growling.

“Ow!” Soul cries, trying to pry Spirit's fingers from his ear as the girls around them gasp. “Let go!”

“If you're here about my daughter again, forget it!” snaps Spirit, starting to drag Soul from the lounge, drawing the attention of the other people in the room as Soul shouts in pain. “No still means no!”

He pushes open the double doors and they stagger together through the bar and out into the street, where Soul finds himself thrown bodily to the ground. Rubbing his ear, he sits up, glaring up at Spirit.

“I won't take no for an answer!” he says, painfully aware of how pathetic his voice sounds.

“As if I would ever give my blessing to a man who would frequent a place such as this!” spits Spirit, indicating Chupa-Cabra's behind him, out of which a small crowd begins to spill to watch the scene (and Soul thinks he hears one of the girls mutter, 'wow rude'). “Over my dead body!”

Soul gapes at him. “Are you serious?!”

“Deadly,” assures Spirit, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes. “Now get out of here before I kick your arse into the next century!”

He raises one arm, changing it to a scythe blade, expression dangerous.

“Wait, please!” Soul implores. “Please, I'll do anything!”

Spirit seems not to heed Soul's words and Soul cowers, flinging his arms over his head as Spirit lunges down at him... Nothing. The blow doesn't come, and after lying on the ground in wait for a few long moments, Soul risks a peek upward. Spirit is peering down at him with a peculiar expression on his face and a glimmer in his eyes.

“Anything?” he asks.

Cautiously, Soul starts to push himself up to sit. “Anything sir. I love Maka so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with her,” he says. “Please – let me.”

Spirit considers him for another few moments before shifting his scythe arm back into an actual arm and putting one hand on his hip. “Sure, I'll humour you. I might have some jobs to offer you.”

“Really?” Soul scrambles to his feet. “And if I do them you'll give me your blessing?”

“Sure, I'll think about it,” says Spirit.

It's not a yes – Soul is thoroughly aware of that – but it's finally not a flat out no.

“I'll do it,” he says. “Whatever it is.”

Soul holds out his hand, waiting for a few seconds before Spirit takes it.

“So what do you need me to do?”

 

At Tsubaki's, Maka settles on the sofa and lets out a heavy sigh.

“You okay sweetie?” asks Tsubaki, setting down a tray with mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table before sitting down herself. “You sound melancholy.”

Maka accepts the mug of tea Tsubaki offers her and shrugs. “Yeah I'm okay, just... Soul's been acting really strangely for the last few weeks.”

“More than usual?” asks Tsubaki, blowing on her tea and sending little ripples spreading across the surface.

“Yeah,” says Maka, frowning at Tsubaki over the rim of her mug. “Like... he's always really tired and he keeps coming home late and won't tell me what he's been doing.”

Tsubaki's brows furrow. “Okay yeah, that's weird,” she admits.

“He seems to have a lot of cuts and bruises too,” adds Maka.

“Has he...” Tsubaki waves a hand vaguely in the air as she wonders aloud, “has he maybe joined a fight club?”

Maka pouts doubtfully. “I feel like he'd tell me about something like that.”

Tsubaki shrugs. “Maybe he's losing a lot and wants to save face?”

“True,” he is kind of proud,” agrees Maka, nibbling thoughtfully on a biscuit. “What would you do, if it was Black*Star?”

“Panic!” laughs Tsubaki. “Black*Star can't keep a secret. He tells me when he passes particularly interesting bowel movements so if he ever starts being secretive I would know something was up.”

Maka scrunches her nose up involuntarily. “Boys are weird,” she decides.

“You're right,” agrees Tsubaki with a giggle.

They settle into their usual comfortable chatter, nursing their tea, but Soul's strange silence still lingers in the back of Maka's mind. She's been trying to tell herself not to worry about him, but she can't _not_ worry, even with Soul himself telling her that he's fine and there's nothing to worry about. She's not worried about it being any question of Soul's fidelity, mostly because of the injuries but also because she _trusts_ Soul. It isn't necessarily like Soul to be so secretive but it's not like it hasn't happened before: a couple of years ago, for Maka's birthday, Soul organised a surprise party, and he was about as evasive then as he's being now. Maka would assume something similar now but for the injuries and the fact that her birthday isn't for another seven months. It all puts her back at square one. Suddenly, Tsubaki looks up.

“How's that work Soul's been doing with your dad going?” she asks.

Maka frowns. “What?”

“Black*Star said Soul was doing some stuff with your dad,” says Tsubaki.

“This is the first I've heard of it,” says Maka, still frowning in confusion. “Is that why he's been cagey?”

“Maybe they're in cahoots?” suggests Tsubaki. “Like they've got some kind of secret project together?”

“You really think they would?” asks Maka. “My dad doesn't like Soul.”

“Maybe Lord Death made them team up?”

Maka shakes her head. “That doesn't make sense – I would have been told about an official thing like that.”

“Maybe...” Tsubaki's voice trails off as she thinks. “Okay no, I'm out.”

Just then, they hear keys in the front door lock, closely followed by the sound of Black*Star humming tunelessly as he walks into the house and kicks off his shoes.

“Black*Star?” calls Tsubaki, turning her head. The humming stops and then Black*Star appears in the doorway.

“Hey babe,” he says, dropping a kiss on Tsubaki's head before grinning at Maka. “Hi Maka, how you doing?”

“I'm okay, thanks,” Maka replies. Black*Star sits down on the sofa beside Tsubaki. “Do you know what Soul's been up to?”

Black*Star's eyes go wide. “Uh... no. Why are you asking me? Why would I know? I don't know. What did you have for lunch today?”

A slow smile spreads across Maka's face: just like Tsubaki said, he can't keep a secret. This is her chance.

“Tsubaki said you mentioned some work Soul's been doing with my dad,” she says plainly. “But I didn't think that could be true because my dad hates him.” She leans forward, watching him squirm under her scrutiny. “But you're so smart, Black*Star, you probably know everything.”

Black*Star gulps. “I er... I might know something about Soul doing some work for your dad.”

“'For'?” asks Maka, raising one eyebrow. “So they're not working together?”

Black*Star purses his lips, still staring at her with wide eyes.

Maka cocks her head to one side. “But why would Soul take on work for my dad? Do you know, Black*Star?” He shakes his head desperately. “Are you sure? The way I see it, there aren't many reasons. Is he looking for work experience? Did he lose a bet? Is he trying to win his approval?”

“No?” Black*Star's voice comes out as a squeak and Maka knows she's on the right track.

“Why?” she asks, leaning even closer. “Soul's never tried to impress him that hard before; there must be a reason.” She continues staring at him, willing him to break.

“Is he trying to get Spirit's help with something?” asks Tsubaki. Black*Star looks at her, eyes opening wider as if to try and tell her something.

“Is he trying to make up for a mistake of some sort?” Maka asks, to a slight shake of Black*Star's head.

“Oh!” says Tsubaki, pointing up as an idea strikes her. “Is he trying to win Spirit over so he can get his blessing for Maka's hand?”

She's joking – Maka can tell by the phrasing and nearly laughs – but when a look of abject horror crosses Black*Star's face and his hands cover his mouth, Maka feels her eyes grow as wide as his.

“What?” she asks softly, too surprised to say anything more.

Black*Star drops his hands. “He told me not to say anything – he wanted it to be a surprise!”

Maka flops back in the armchair, stunned. This, she was not expecting – they've spoken about marriage a little, but she wasn't expecting anything until they were done with uni.

“So he's trying to get Spirit to like him so that he'll let him marry Maka?” Tsubaki asks Black*Star, who is now sitting with his head in his hands, looking pained as he nods.

“Spirit said no the first time,” he explains, “and then when he tried again he offered to do something for Spirit.”

Maka listens silently; as the words and realisation sink in a slow frown spreads across her face.

“So what did Soul have to do?” asks Tsubaki.

“He's been doing a bunch of tasks,” says Black*Star. “Taking out monsters and stuff... Apparently Spirit said he'd consider saying yes if Soul did one more but that was three jobs ago.”

“That seems unreasonable,” muses Tsubaki.

“I told him I'd beat it out of Spirit but he said no.”

Maka looks up. “Why?”

Black*Star and Tsubaki both look at her.

“Why what?” asks Black*Star, before paling. “Sorry, I didn't mean it about beating up your dad.”

“I don't care about that,” says Maka, the frown on her face beginning to turn into something of a glare. “Why does he think any of this is necessary?”

“What do you mean?” asks Tsubaki.

“Why does he think my dad should be the one to give me permission?” Maka stands, grabbing her bag.

“Where are you going?” Tsubaki asks, panic flitting across her face.

Maka goes to the front door and pulls on her shoes. “I'm going to my dad's house. He's not getting away with this.”

Black*Star and Tsubaki appear in the doorway.

“You're not going to tell Soul I told you, are you?” asks Black*Star.

“Trust me, that's going to be the least of Soul's worries,” assures Maka as she opens the front door and leaves.

 

By the time Maka gets to her father's house she's a ball of pure rage. Normally, she would never think of coming over without pre-arranging so with Spirit, so when he opens the door she knows his surprise is genuine.

“Maka!” he exclaims, the bright smile on his face fading fast as he takes in her murderous expression. “What... what's wrong?”

“I need to talk to you,” she says, pushing past him into the house. She doesn't stop to see if he follows, simply walking through to the living room, only half surprised when she sees Soul sitting on the sofa. The more surprising part is the range of injuries he's sporting: a black eye and fat lip, over which he's been holding an ice pack (currently lifted so he can look at her), along with a nasty graze up his arm and a sizeable cut through his trousers. Behind her, Maka hears Spirit come into the living room and turns to look at him.

“What did you want to talk about, darling girl?” he asks, trying for lightness with his demeanour, but Maka narrows her eyes at him.

“This,” she says, gesturing over her shoulder to Soul. “What gives you the right to make any decisions regarding my future or marriage?”

From the sofa, Maka hears Soul rise. “Maka, I–”

“I wasn't talking to you,” Maka says, raising one hand but still staring at her father. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was looking out for your best interests!” Spirit says, glancing between Soul and Maka. “He's not the right guy for you, sweetheart!”

“Do you seriously think I can't make decisions for myself?!” Maka demands. “I _love_ Soul – you don't get to dictate anything about him or us or even just me!”

“But Maka–”

“No!” she snaps. “No buts, or anything else! How dare you even think you could do this? You don't know the first thing about a good marriage!” At that, Spirit finally looks a little more cowed. “I'll bet you never even intended on saying yes, and yet you still made him take on all these jobs for you and get hurt!” With Spirit chastised and silent, Maka finally turns to face Soul with another icy glare. “And as for you...”

Soul's eyes widen as Black*Star's did earlier. “Uh... me?”

“Yes, you!” she growls, folding her arms. “What were you thinking?!”

“Uh...” Soul glances at Spirit before returning his gaze to Maka. “I... I guess I thought it would be nice?”

“Nice for who?” asks Maka. “You know I don't give a flying fuck what he thinks about anything!”

Soul hangs his head. “Sorry.”

Maka softens very slightly despite herself. “Let's go home.”

As she turns to go, Soul beginning to follow, Spirit steps into the living room doorway, blocking their path.

“Maka, honey, can't we talk about this?” he asks.

“I don't want to talk to you right now,” she replies, still glowering. “I want to go home with my fiancé.”

Spirit freezes, Soul doing the same beside Maka before turning a surprised look on her.

“Fiancé?” Soul repeats.

“Don't tell me you've changed your mind?” Maka asks exasperatedly.

Slowly, and with a wince from his facial injuries, Soul smiles and shakes his head.

“Not a chance.”

 


End file.
